


Change of Heart

by ragdoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M, Forced Bonding, Forced Marriage, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragdoll/pseuds/ragdoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson has a very cunning scheme to keep herself out of Azkaban Prison. Unfortunately, things don't always go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Coffee_n_Cocoa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Coffee_n_Cocoa).



> Written for Smutty Claus 2012.

She sat like a queen on a throne, back stiff, staring at a spot on the far wall of the courtroom rather than on anyone particular. Another witch might have been afraid in her place but Pansy Parkinson was made of sterner stuff. No one would see her even flinch, no matter what was said, no matter what was done. The members of the Wizengamot were a bunch of old fools. They could not touch her. She would not let them.

"We hereby find you, Pansy Messalina Parkinson, guilty as charged of collusion with known Death Eaters, and contributing to acts of violence and abuse against Muggle and Wizard-kind alike," the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot intoned. "Have you anything to say for yourself, young lady?"

Pansy gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Her lawyer told her she would most likely be found guilty — the deck had been stacked against her by Potter and his friends. There had been no hope of going free, especially after her declaration against Potter in the Great Hall during the Battle at Hogwarts. However, since she was young and her crimes not that severe, she had options that other witches had not.

And so they had planned.

"Before I pass sentence," the Chief Wizard continued, "is there anyone willing to take this witch into probationary custody?"

Probationary custody was the Wizarding World's answer to an already overcrowded Azkaban and too many witches and wizards found guilty of lesser crimes. If a wizard (or witch) vouched for the guilty party and promised to keep them under their jurisdiction — which was just a polite way of saying contracted marriage — their sentence would be commuted to house arrest. It wasn't the easiest path to take, but it was certainly more palatable than a stint in Azkaban.

Pansy forced herself not to smirk, knowing what was coming next. Old Perseus Pemberton had needed a wife for his son, Alcaeus, and she needed a way out. Married life with Alcaeus promised to be easy enough. Other than producing an heir, he had no need for women, and even that could be achieved by magic rather than actual sex. Money had exchanged hands; now she only needed him to speak up. 

"I will," said a voice from the back of the courtroom.

There was a collective gasp from the spectators as they all turned to see the speaker.

"And you are?" asked the Chief Wizard. 

"Neville Longbottom, sir," was the low reply. "I'll take custody of Miss Parkinson. I'll marry her."

Pansy realised Alcaeus Pemberton was nowhere to be seen. She clutched at the arms of her chair, her heart starting to pound in her chest. 

"Miss Parkinson, do you have any objection?"

No one else spoke up; no one else came to her aid. If she objected now, she'd be sent to Azkaban for an extended stint, even though her "crimes" were minor. She opened her mouth, and forced a single word out. "No."

"So be it." The Chief Wizard banged his gavel against his desk and the courtroom erupted into an explosion of excitement.  
*

A year had passed since that fateful day. They had been married quickly, a dismal, depressing and rushed affair in the Chief Wizard's office with no one in attendance other than Longbottom's friend, Looney Lovegood. The rest of his friends and family, including Neville's harridan of a grandmother, had boycotted the proceedings.

It was hardly the wedding of Pansy's dreams. For years, she'd imagined a grand event: a lavish ceremony followed by an even more lavish reception of champagne and gourmet delights, her dress an expensive _haute couture_ confection in satin, lace and pearls from an exclusive boutique in Paris, the guests all the crème de la crème of Wizarding Society (Purebloods all), and her groom a wealthy, handsome scion of a noble Pureblood family. She'd always assumed that man would be Draco Malfoy, but now the Malfoys were in disgrace, and Draco was in no position to save himself let alone anyone else.

(Last she'd heard he'd been sniffing around the Greengrass girls' skirts in an effort to redeem himself.)

Instead, she'd been married off to Neville Longbottom (who while technically a Pureblood, was hardly the Wizard of her Dreams) in a dingy, musty little office with only Looney Lovegood as a witness. Afterwards, Pansy and Neville gone back to Neville's home for a supper brought in from the Leaky Cauldron, and that had been that.

Thankfully, Longbottom hadn't insisted on a wedding night, although Pansy had steeled herself for the eventuality. Instead, he'd shown her to a small room which had been converted hastily into a private bedroom, and awkwardly wished her good night.

So much for a honeymoon.

While Pansy had been grateful that Neville had not pressured her for sex — it would've been perfectly within his rights as her husband, as well as her new guardian (although she thought of him privately as her gaoler) — she was somewhat miffed too. She was used to being sought after, and longed for. Before the war, Draco had been one of the most envied boys at school because he had _her_ on his arm, not to mention in his bed. It peeved her that Longbottom hadn't even kissed her, let alone tried for more.

Perhaps he, like Pemberton, just had no interest in women. Yes, in Pansy's opinion, that had to be the only explanation.

*

Time had passed quickly after that. Neville worked half of his time at the Ministry helping the Department of Aurors hunt down Dark Wizards, and the other half as an apprentice Herbologist at the Diagon Alley Apothecary, while Pansy was left alone to care for their home. She didn't mind that very much. She had been trained as a _chatelaine_ from the day she was born, although the assumption had always been that as the wife of a wealthy, Pureblood wizard she'd be in charge of a large manor house with House-Elves at her beck and call. Doing the cooking and cleaning by herself was a minor nuisance, but Neville was happy to provide her with cookery books or anything else she might need, he wasn't fussy about his meals, and his other household requirements were fairly small. He did his own laundry and helped with the tidying up. As long as the house was neat, and there was a hot meal ready when he came home at night, he was perfectly satisfied.

He'd also put no restrictions on Pansy's coming and goings. While there were very few friends or family she actually wanted to see, Neville allowed her to go out when she wanted and never questioned her whereabouts. He also gave her a small allowance to buy whatever she liked, no matter how frivolous. While he hardly spoilt her, he had no restrictions on what she spent her money on either.

At first, Pansy tried to get a rise out of him, spending her pocket money on paltry things like clothing and shoes. To her annoyance, Neville barely noticed or even seem to care. Pansy wasn't certain why she had any concern as to what Neville thought — it wasn't as if she'd ever given a damn about his opinion in all the years she'd known him, and yet...

She supposed she just wanted some acknowledgement from him that she existed, that she mattered. Pansy was used to being the centre of attention, especially where _men_ were involved, and Neville's seeming apathy irked her to no end. Other than occasional faint praise over a meal, or some small matter she took care of in the house, he hardly paid attention to her at all.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd had some company to distract her, she reasoned. Most of her friends had abandoned her after the War was over; Slytherins were hardly known for their loyalty, especially when their own survival was at stake. The days of parties and invitations out were long gone.

So it came as a great surprise when the regal looking owl arrived at their home bearing an official looking envelope edged in gilt trim. It was addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Neville Longbottom in shiny gold lettering. Pansy forced herself to wait until Neville arrived home before reading it, although her fingers were itching to tear the envelope open.

"It's the Ministry's official Yule party and dinner dance," said Neville, glancing down at the fine vellum invitation in his hands. "We've been invited. It's kind of mandatory that I attend."

Pansy found herself holding her breath in anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a party. Neville wasn't one for that sort of socialising, and she half expected him to say he'd prefer to stay home, or go without her.

He looked up from the invitation and over at her. "Would you like to go?"

She put on her best and most nonchalant expression. "If it's all the same to you, I would. It's been ages since I— _we've_ been out."

Neville nodded. "All right then."

"Only—"

"Only?"

"Well, I haven't got a stitch to wear. Not to a Ministry _soiree_ at any rate."

"I think we can arrange for you to get something new," he replied lightly. 

Pansy lowered her eyes demurely. "I would like that very much."

*

The sum Neville had given her to purchase new dress robes wasn't even close to what she needed for anything suitable. The days of dropping into Gladrags or Twilfitt & Tatting's, and buying whatever she fancied were long gone; the ability to get something custom made even more so. Anything she liked was far out of her current price range, anything affordable made her look matronly and dull. 

In the end, Pansy wound up buying herself a simple dress and some new heels; she was certain that with a little effort, she could transform them into something far more presentable. However, there was enough money left over for her to splurge just a little: a set of festive red lingerie and stockings to wear under her robes. Even if no one else ever saw them, at least _she_ would feel a bit sexier and prettier, something that would go a long way to brighten her mood.

Alone in the small house, she set about working on her new clothes. A lowered neckline, a raised hem, some additional trim, and a brand new colour were all that were needed to turn a drab, white dress into a sexy frock that screamed 'Notice Me!". With a quick flick of her wand, her new shoes were dyed to match the dress — a vivid crimson that suited her colouring. 

Pansy slipped on the dress and modelled it for herself in the mirror, smiling all the while. The look was just what she had hoped for. If people were going to stare at her while on Neville's arm, it would be on _her_ terms, not theirs. She could hardly wait.

*  
Despite that, she found herself suffering from pre-party jitters on the night of the event. It was a very odd sensation, and not one Pansy was used to. Worst of all, she didn't know exactly why she had butterflies in her stomach or why her hands shook as she slipped into her lingerie, then laced up her robes. It certainly couldn't have been that she wanted _Neville's_ approval, and she'd never cared what anyone else thought of her in past, so why now?

She took extra care in putting on her makeup; her hands were trembling as she applied lipstick, and the last thing she wanted was to smear it on her dress. A knock on the door interrupted her. With a huff of frustration, she set down the lipstick tube on her vanity. 

"Yes?"

"Pansy? It's me. Neville." 

Pansy rolled her eyes. Who else could it have been?

"Yes, I know. Come in." Pansy shifted slightly in her chair, forcing her face into an impassive mask. She wasn't going to let him know she was feeling even the slightest bit anxious.

The door swung open, Neville coming into the room. He was half-dressed in a pair of black trousers, and an open dressing gown. 

Pansy's eyes widened as she took in the sight. While not precisely a male model, Neville Longbottom was far more fit than she'd ever imagined. He clearly hid it well under his baggy work robes. 

Neville was staring at her as well, his mouth hanging open as his eyes roved over her seated form.

"I—erm," he started, then licked his lips nervously. "I was just wondering how much more time you thought you needed. We're supposed to be there by seven o'clock."

"I'm nearly ready," she replied, dropping her voice into a sultry purr. "I just need to finish my make up and put on some jewellery."

"Oh. Okay." He was still staring, the slow burn of blush creeping up his face to the roots of his sandy hair. Pansy felt a stab of satisfaction as his eyes focused on her low-cut bodice and the hint of cleavage on display. "Just, erm, just let me know, yeah?"

"You could help me with my necklace." Pansy indicated the small ruby pendant sitting on the vanity with a tilt of her chin. "The catch is a bit tricky." She wasn't quite certain why she'd asked him to do it — she knew she could put it on perfectly well with magic. 

"All right." Neville picked up the chain and stood behind her to drape it around her throat. Pansy felt her pulse starting to race as he leant over, his fingers brushing the back of her neck as he fumbled with the clasp. His touch was lighter than she'd expected, sending a frisson of excitement running up her spine. 

"Thank you," she managed, willing herself to breathe normally. 

Neville cast her a quizzical look. "Are you feeling all right? You look a bit...flushed."

"What? Yes, of course. It's just a bit warm in here," she insisted. "Why don't you finish getting dressed? I wouldn't want us to be late."

He jumped back as if he'd been slapped. "No, of course not," he said before beating a hasty retreat from the room, leaving a thoroughly confused Pansy in his wake.

*

The party was loud and crowded when they arrived, although it seemed to Pansy the sound faded away to the buzz of whispers as she and Neville walked to an empty table. All eyes were upon them as they made their way through the crowd, Pansy holding her head up high. Try as they might, she would not let them rattle her further. She would not let them touch her.

Neville pulled out a chair, gallantly offering her a seat. Pansy settled into it, flashing him a grateful smile.

"Would you like a drink?"

She nodded. "Please. Red wine would be perfect."

"Be right back, then." Neville dashed off in the direction of the bar, leaving Pansy on her own. People were still staring in her direction, whispering amongst themselves, but no one came near. She pursed her lips in annoyance, wondering if they thought she carried something contagious. 

Pansy had no real regrets for her past actions. Just because she didn't worship at the altar of Saint Potter didn't mean she'd done anything wrong, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. Including the entire Wizengamot. Her only real transgressions had been trying to save her own neck, and then getting caught on the losing side. 

She watched Neville over at the bar ordering drinks, and casually chatting with his friends and acquaintances. Occasionally, one of them would cast a furtive glance in her direction, then turn away as if she didn't exist. Neville didn't seem pleased by their reactions to her, responding by looking over at his wife apologetically each and every time. 

It gave Pansy a little solace to know that Neville was actually concerned about her. She tried to convince herself that it didn't matter what he thought either, but given how kind he'd been to her in the past year, she knew it wasn't true.

Her annoyance grew as Neville grab their drinks from the bar and begin to make his way back to her. He was immediately ambushed by a small, red-haired woman who embraced him enthusiastically, nearly causing Neville to spill the glass of wine balanced precariously in one hand, a glass of what looked like Firewhisky in the other.

_Ginny Weasley._

Neville attempted to extricate himself from Ginny's grip, but the other witch would have none of it. Neville glanced back at his wife, his expression apologetic as he did his best to move away. Ginny, however, didn't seem to be getting the message. Pansy's lip curled up in disgust as Ginny continued to chatter away, batting her eyelashes at him and giving him simpering looks. Her flirting was anything but subtle.

Finally, Neville managed to squirm out of her clutches, making his way back to Pansy. 

"I'm sorry," he said, handing her the glass of wine. "I didn't mean to take so long, but I haven't seen Ginny in a while, and she wanted to catch me up."

Pansy responded with a curt nod. 

Neville furrowed his brow, looking down at her in confusion. "You're not upset, are you?"

"Why should I be upset?" she said, her voice taking on a waspish tone. "Just because another woman was hanging all over my husband in public like a cheap set of robes? Of course, I'm certain _she's_ quite familiar with those."

"Oi!" Neville scowled. "That's not fair."

"Neither is chatting up my husband in front of all those people as if I didn't exist."

"She was only larking about. We're just friends. Besides, I didn't think you cared."

Neither had Pansy until that moment. 

"If I didn't know better," he continued, "I'd think you were jealous."

"I'm not—," Pansy started, then realised her protests sounded ridiculous. She drew in a deep breath. "It's just rude of her to act like that when we're out in public together, you know. People might talk."

Neville raised his eyebrows. "And that matters to you?"

"Of course it does," she admitted. "We're already the subject of too much gossip. I don't need _her_ making it worse." Pansy took a sip of her wine; it was cheap and too sweet, but she drank it all the same.

"Would you like to dance?"

The request was so unexpected that she nearly choked on her wine. She forced herself to swallow it, before spluttering, "What?"

"There's music playing. And dancing," said Neville, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Would you like to dance?"

Memories of their fourth year Yule Ball came rushing back, gliding gracefully across the dance floor in Draco's arms, while Neville tripped over his own two feet, partnered by Ginny.

"I'm not sure —"

"I've had lessons," he blurted, as if reading her thoughts. He tossed back his Firewhisky, set the glass down on the table in front of her, and then offered her a hand. "I promise I won't tread on your toes. Maybe people won't gossip as much if they see us together on the dance floor."

Pansy wondered when he'd found time to go for dancing lessons. Perhaps during his tenure as the head of Dumbledore's Army? The thought of him dancing about while leading an underground resistance movement made her laugh. 

Puzzled, Neville started to withdraw his hand. 

"No. Wait. Of course I will." Pansy slipped her fingers into his, allowing him to help her to her feet. 

Neville lead her to the room next door where a band was playing loudly and enthusiastically while wizards and witches whirled about to the music. Pansy tensed as Neville placed one hand on her back, but began to relax as he led her around the dance floor.

He hadn't lied about the dance lessons. 

The band launched into a slow ballad and Pansy allowed Neville to draw her in closer, swaying with him to the tune.

It was oddly reassuring to be held by him, to feel his arms around her, the firmness of his chest pressing against her own. Pansy felt an unexpected jolt of arousal as they continued to dance. It had been too long since she was this close to someone. That had to be the only reason she was reacting this way...

As the dance went on she became aware of people's eyes on them, as well as the pointed looks in their direction. With a sniff, Pansy snuggled against Neville and tightened her fingers around his. 

_Let them talk._

If Neville was surprised by her actions, he didn't show it. If anything, he seemed to be playing along, sliding his hand down to the small of her back, hovering close to her bottom, and pressing his cheek against the crown of her head. She could feel his breath, warm and moist, as it wafted against her skin. 

Encouraged by Neville's behaviour, Pansy responded in kind. She tilted her head up, pressing her lips against the pale skin of his throat. She felt Neville tense, then let out a short whimper, although he didn't let her go. Smirking, she pressed against him, her fingers brushing gently against the back of his neck.

Finally, the song stopped, and Neville loosened his hold on her. He gazed down, slightly puzzled, but said nothing. She smiled back in response, for once a genuine smile rather than forced. Neville cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing softly against her jaw.

Pansy's breath caught in her throat as Neville lowered his face to hers, and then kissed her on the mouth. 

Once again, he astonished her. His kissing was even better than his dancing.

Neville broke off the kiss, his cheeks flushed, and a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "Mistletoe," he breathed, pointing upward. 

"Is it?" she said, dazed.

"Sorry. I'm a Herbologist. We notice these things." 

"Ah," was Pansy's only reply. People were definitely staring at them _now_. "Looks like we're the talk of the party now."

He shrugged. "I ought to be allowed to kiss my wife if I want. I mean, assuming you _want_ to be kissed, that is."

In all the years Pansy had known Neville, she'd never imagined kissing him. However, now that she had, she had no intention of stopping. She could only hope he felt the same. Maybe he did like girls after all. "If I didn't want you to kiss me, believe me, you'd know." 

"Well, that's good to hear." His face lit up in a shy grin. She'd never noticed how adorable he was when he smiled. 

"Perhaps," Pansy murmured, "we ought to continue this somewhere more private?"

His grin faded. "You're not having a good time, then?"

"Oh, I am," she assured him. "I just hate to be the subject of gossip. Let them get their entertainment elsewhere."

That seemed to mollify him. "Let me fetch our cloaks, and then we can go home."

*

It only took a few moments for them to Apparate back, but even that was too long for Pansy's liking. As soon as they arrived in the house, Pansy slammed Neville against the nearest wall, and began to kiss him with all the passion she could muster.

Neville stiffened for a moment; Pansy was afraid he might push her away — or worse. To her relief, he wound his arms around her waist, and began to kiss her back with equal intensity. They started off slow, each long and lingering kiss sending shivers up the length of Pansy's spine. She buried her fingers in his hair, caressing him gently as she pressed herself against him. She could feel his burgeoning erection nudging against her thigh.

Her other hand snaked down his back to his hip, and then slipped between their flush bodies. She worked her way down until she reached his groin. Neville let out a low moan as she palmed him through his trousers. His kisses grew harder, his hips bucking slowly against her hand. 

Suddenly, he pulled away, panting hard. "We should—" He swallowed hard, and then gasped for air. "We should stop."

"Whatever for?"

"I don't want you to feel obligated to—"

Pansy cut him off immediately. "This is no time to be gallant, Longbottom! We've been married for an entire year, and it's about time we bloody well consummated it!"

The stunned expression on his face was utterly endearing to her. Taking advantage of his startled state, Pansy grabbed Neville by the lapels of his robe, pulled him to her and kissed him hard on the mouth. 

His hands went to her arse, cupping her buttocks through the thin fabric of her dress. 

"That's better," Pansy murmured. "Much better."

This time Neville silenced her with a searing kiss, giving her bottom a firm squeeze. He was finally catching on.

Her fingers flew frantically along the line of buttons on his robes, then his shirt, unfastening them as quickly as she could before all but tearing the garments off of him. Neville tried to untie the lacings at the front of her dress, but they held firm.

"Sod it," he muttered before pulling out his wand. " _Diffindo_." The tip of his wand sliced through the ribbons, and the bodice parted in its wake, exposing the crimson satin bra beneath.

She shrugged out of the dress, letting it pool at her ankles. Standing there in just bra, knickers and stockings, Pansy suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable and naked under the scrutiny of Neville's gaze.

"Don't stop now," she insisted, reaching out to pull him towards her again.

"No," Neville replied. "Not here." Before she could stop him, he'd scooped her up in his arms, proceeding to carry her into his bedroom — _their_ bedroom, Pansy corrected herself. At least, she hoped it would be.

Carefully, Neville placed her down on the mattress, and sank to his knees in front of her. He slid his hands up the length of her stocking-clad legs, fingertips tracing along the lacy tops. Pansy could feel him trembling as he continued to caress her. He worked his way upward, over her hips, the curve of her waist, and up to her breasts, Pansy shivering at his touch.

Leaning in, he captured her mouth with his, while he fumbled with the clasp of her bra. He managed to unhook it with little effort before drawing it off slowly. He stayed there, transfixed and unmoving, his eyes locked on her bare breasts. 

Not content to wait any longer, Pansy grasped Neville's hand in hers and placed it on her breast, taking great pleasure in hearing the groan of approval which escaped from his lips. 

That seemed to shake him out of his reverie. Neville tightened his fingers, gently fondling the soft flesh and brushing along the swell of each breast with the pad of his thumbs, coaxing her taut nipples into hard points.

Pansy drew him in close, kissing him until they were both giddy and breathless. She'd never expected Neville to make her feel this good. "I want you," she whispered, her voice husky with need.

Neville groaned, his hands already on the elastic band of her knickers, shoving them downward. He made short work of her lingerie, then shucked his trousers and boxers off in haste. Pansy liked what she saw. He definitely was _not_ the podgy, doughy boy she'd known at Hogwarts.

Wasting no time, he scrambled onto the bed and pushed her back against the pillows, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach. She was delighted to see how well endowed he was. She hadn't expected _that_ either. 

With a wicked laugh, Pansy pulled him on top of her. He shifted and settled between her damp thighs, then rolled his hips, making her moan. Slowly, he rocked forward, then back, dragging his cock along the line of her wet folds. 

Pansy mewled, arching up against him. 

Still moving, Neville gazed down at her. "You're beautiful," he breathed. 

"You don't have to say that."

"No, I mean it," he insisted. "I've always thought you were." 

None of the men Pansy had been with in the past had ever said that to her, not even Draco. Neville, however, seemed completely sincere in his assessment. There was something far more arousing in his earnest words than anything he was doing to her — although he was doing quite a job in that area as well. "Neville," she moaned as she undulated her hips frantically. 

"Yes?"

"Shut up and shag me."

His eyes widened in surprise, but thankfully, he didn't argue. Instead, he propped himself up by the elbows, reaching down to guide his cock in, and sheathed himself fully inside her. Pansy gasped, clenching around him as she clutched at him. 

"You _are_ beautiful." 

Before she could say anything else, he cut her off with a kiss, crushing her mouth with his own. He began to move in slow, deliberate strokes. If she'd had any concerns that her husband was a novice in the bedroom, they were all allayed now. He certainly knew what he was doing, thrusting in and out, building up in both speed and intensity until Pansy was crying out beneath him. She clung to him, her nails cutting into his back. They moved together as one at a frenetic pace until Neville gave one final cry, then came, his body wracking with shudders. 

Pansy kissed him into stillness, stroking his hair and holding him close. Neville raised his head, his round face red and shining with sweat. He was beaming, his eyes half-lidded in sated desire. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, already trailing his fingertips down the length of Pansy's body, tracing gentle spirals along her skin. 

He dragged his fingers over the swell of her breasts, around her nipples, then down across her belly before dipping lower. Pansy's breath hitched as he found her clit, encircling it with the utmost care. 

She turned on her side to face him and draped one leg over his, allowing him further access. Reaching out, she brushed his jaw with the back of her hand, gently toying with the damp curls sticking to his cheek. "Mmmm. Feels good," she murmured, rocking against his hand. 

"You didn't think I'd forget about you, did you?" There was a note of genuine concern in his voice. 

"Some men have." The men she'd had in past — Slytherins all — had been selfish bastards. 

"Well," Neville said, the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin, "my Gran taught me it's better to give than to receive. I'm just sorry I couldn't take care of you first."

Pansy moaned again when he slipped two fingers inside her, his thumb pressing against her clit, and gave his wrist an expert twist. "N-next time," she panted. 

Neville planted a few light kisses on her bare shoulder, his fingers still thrusting and spiralling. "I'm glad to hear there will be a next time."

"Mmm. Hmm," Pansy managed. "Neville, oh, Neville..." Her words broke off into a guttural moan as she writhed wildly, feeling herself teetering on the brink. Another quick thrust of his hand, and she came completely undone. Every nerve shattered, sending wave after wave of bliss washing over her. Neville continued his relentless assault, making her come once, twice, three times before he stopped.

Exhausted, Pansy collapsed against the mattress in a limp heap, allowing Neville to snuggle next to her. "Why ever didn't we do this earlier?" she sighed.

Neville nuzzled the crook of her neck before answering. "I didn't think you'd want to, and I wasn't exactly about to _force_ you, was I?"

"You could have done. It was within your marital rights." Wizard law was archaic and backward when it came to the role of women in a marriage. 

"No, I couldn't," he replied resolutely. "I'm not that kind of bloke."

"Why did you marry me, then?" In all the time they'd been together, Pansy had never mustered up the courage to ask. Now, it seemed safe to broach the topic.

"I told you before, I've always thought you were beautiful. I've fancied you for years."

"Even though I wasn't a member of Potter's little fan club? I thought you might've held some grudges given everything."

Neville shrugged. "I was the head of Dumbledore's Army. I knew who the real fanatics were, who really was on the side of Vo—You-Know-Who. You said a lot of things, but you never acted on them, did you? You never took the Dark Mark, never encouraged people like the Carrows to hurt anyone. I reckoned — I hoped — that maybe you were just doing what you had to to protect yourself."

"I almost sent Potter to his death." It hadn't been her finest moment, but even now, Pansy wasn't certain she wouldn't have done it again if it had meant surviving in a world where the Dark Lord had won. Despite what the Wizengamot believed, self-preservation was not a crime in her book.

"You did what you thought was right to keep the other Slytherins safe. It's going to sound weird, but I admired you for it, even if I couldn't really understand it myself. After the war, it didn't seem like it was worth letting you go to prison for. Other people did much worse. I know," there was a sharp intake of breath, "I witnessed a lot."

"I'm sure your friends think otherwise," she scoffed.

"I don't give a toss what they think. We've all done awful things to survive, Pansy. It's just that our side won so we're seen as the good guys."

She hadn't thought of it that way before. However, if Lord Voldemort had prevailed, things would've been quite different. She doubted Neville would even been alive, let alone in bed with her. It wasn't something she wanted to think about now.

"If you really believed in all that Death Eater rubbish, you would've gone to prison rather than marrying someone like me, wouldn't you?" he continued. "I took a chance on you, and you haven't disappointed me yet."

"Even though we've hardly lived like man and wife for the past year?" 

"Well, I hoped you might come round eventually." He waggled his eyebrows in what Pansy assumed was meant to be a flirtatious manner. 

Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, "You Gryffindors, always far more nerve than sense." She kissed him lightly. "I'm glad of that, though. You're a really good man, Neville Longbottom. Probably more than I deserve."

"Don't be silly." He was silent for a moment, looking at her with great consideration before edging closer. "Pansy, do you think —- would you consider trying this thing — you know, you and me — for real? Like a proper marriage?"

Pansy inhaled deeply, and then nodded. "Yes, Neville. I think I'd like that very much." 

"I don't expect you to stay home and be a housewife if you don't want. I know how clever you are, and I'd support you in anything you wanted to do." 

"We'll discuss that later," she told him. "Right now, I've got other plans for you." She kissed him again before he could say another word, taking the initiative and rolling him onto his back. Neville was right though — she could do anything she wanted. She always had had a knack for fashion, and he'd liked what she'd done with her dress tonight. Perhaps she'd become a designer for discriminating witches. Perhaps she'd open a dress shop. The future was wide open.

But for now, all she wanted, all she needed was _Neville._


End file.
